


Dream A Little Dream

by Esperata



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Blood and Violence, Broadly Canon Compliant, But not quite, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Child Abuse, Childhood Trauma, Confused Oswald Cobblepot, Dreamsharing, Edward Nygma Has Issues, Homophobic Language, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Masochistic Isabella, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-16
Updated: 2020-02-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:28:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22760971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Esperata/pseuds/Esperata
Summary: In a world where you share a true-to-life dream with your soulmate, Edward was not at all comforted by the vision he experienced.
Relationships: Oswald Cobblepot/Edward Nygma
Comments: 62
Kudos: 149





	1. Chapter 1

Edward could clearly remember when he’d first asked his mother about the Dreams.

Not just dreams but the _special_ Dreams. The ones that were so vivid you could swear they were real, yet which presented such an unusual perspective you knew there was something troubling about them. The ones which occurred with noticeable regularity, unchanging in their details or intensity.

He didn’t like asking questions at home, knowing from experience how such curiosity was often received, but he didn’t exactly have anyone else to turn to. And in an odd way he’d have actually have been relieved to hear for once that he was making too much out of nothing and to just ignore it.

So he fumbled his way through his worry over breakfast one morning – keeping his attention mostly on getting his own food ready and not making eye contact with the glowering woman swallowing her bitter coffee. He tried hard to keep his tone light and conversational but was painfully aware of stumbling over his words and stuttering parts out.

Still he told her how he kept having this nightmare. That was stretching the truth a little because it didn’t actually scare him but how else could he describe it when it involved bloody torture? It was like an out of body experience too because he could see himself. He watched himself cutting the fingers off somebody tied to a chair, a bag on their head concealing who they were. And then, when he found his own face looking back at him expectantly, his manifestation in the dream rushed forward and stabbed the victim repeatedly – until all he could see was blood. A red haze clouding his vision as he awoke, the tang of iron still in his nostrils.

When he turned it was to find his mother stood uncomfortably close behind him.

Her first slap made him drop his toast. The second sent him stumbling back into the counter. After that he stopped counting as she railed at him both verbally and physically.

A lot of it was familiar enough to ignore but a few new insults penetrated his disassociating brain.

“Typical your soulmate dream would be sick and twisted. I _said_ we should have aborted you!”

He clung to the phrase ‘soulmate dream’ and escaped just as soon as she uttered the magic words: “Get outta my sight you little freak!”

Instead of going to school, where he’d have to explain his new bruises, he decided to skip it and head to the library. It was becoming something of a new routine. He knew his teachers didn’t trust how he could just turn up occasionally for tests and exams yet still pass but he didn’t care. The curriculum was mostly beneath him anyway and he preferred to spend his time somewhere safe where he could actually stretch his intelligence.

Today he settled at a table and searched out all the books he could that might deal with soulmate dreams. What he learnt scared him. For once he couldn’t help but agree with his mother.

It seemed that soulmate dreams were special Dreams that you shared with your perfect match, or matches in the cases of polyamorous relationships. In them you’d envisage a key moment in your relationship. For some people this was their first meeting, for others an important event such as their wedding, but in all cases the important point was that you’d see it from your soulmate’s perspective. That was the key way to recognise them from ordinary dreams, apart from their frequency and consistency. Once you found your soulmate and accepted them then you’d experience the dream in its proper form and it would fade into a memory.

Edward sat chewing his lip as he thought all this over. His soulmate was a person who’d watch him cut the fingers off someone before stabbing them in an animalistic rage? What did that say about Ed? Truly he was more unbalanced than he’d realised. Yet he always tried so hard to fit in and be liked! He wouldn’t be that sort of person. He couldn’t _love_ that sort of person. It had to be wrong. There were documented cases of people dreaming up false soulmate dreams after all. He deliberately ignored the fact that all of those people had previously known about such dreams in order to wish subconsciously to create one.

When he got home he wanted for nothing so much as to forget all about it. To pretend he never had such dreams. That he could be normal if only he focused himself enough to the task.

That hope died as he saw his father was waiting for him. With a terrified glance to his mother stood aside watching, Ed realised she’d told him everything. Apparently she hadn’t considered her own blows sufficient to beat this particular quirk out of her son.

Ed did his best to stay silent and take the beating but his father was in rare form. Yelling at him about being devil-spawned and ungrateful for all his parents had done for him. How no son of theirs would shame them with such despicable behaviour.

The sound of his father preparing his belt broke Ed’s fragile resolve and he attempted to plead with him.

“I won’t father! I’ll be good! I wouldn’t…even if I meet him-”

“Him!” his father roared and Edward bit his own tongue so hard he drew blood.

Why had he said that? He should have known better. Hadn’t he always stubbornly ignored any flare of attraction to boys? Hadn’t he known this would be his parents’ response? Despite feeling impulsively his companion in the dream was male, he should never have said it.

His father ripped the shirt off Edward and shoved him against his mother, who held him in a grip of iron.

“Should have known you’d be a poofter as well,” he growled before lashing the leather across Edward’s shoulders. “No real man needs a dream to tell him to take who he wants.”

Edward couldn’t help but cry out now every time the belt struck him, his noisy tears still not loud enough to drown out his parents’ laments of how he should appreciate them doing this for him, beating the devil out of him, teaching him how to be a proper man.

Eventually the blessed relief came in the form of oblivion as he passed out. He certainly learnt not to dwell on his Dream again.


	2. Chapter 2

College was a precious time for Edward. He was finally free from his parents for starters so there was no daily fear of beatings. Yet he realised he wasn’t wholly free from their influence when he went to the first evening’s fresher’s party. The stink of alcohol and the lurching bodies coming towards him automatically made him flinch. The hands encouraging him to join the throng and the shrill voices calling for him to live a little eventually sent him fleeing.

He might be free physically but mentally would take more time.

Yet college was still like a paradise, for all that he couldn’t join in the thriving nightlife. For once in his studies he found himself challenged and no-one questioned his unquenchable thirst for knowledge. He got a reputation for being a little weird and repressed but the fact he wasn’t outright taunted for it made him feel almost like he belonged for the first time.

There were people he could say ‘Hi’ to who would offer a smile and greeting back when they passed. If he sat near them in classes they didn’t object. This he thought, must be what having friends felt like.

He knew he wasn’t as sociable as the others. He wasn’t stupid. He could see the easy casual way they would talk and envy them the freedom they felt to do so. But every topic they brought up seemed designed to exclude him. They would chat about idiotic TV shows that he couldn’t care less about, or discuss people’s love lives with a fascination he couldn’t replicate. When he did interject his opinions on these matters, based on logic and fact – the glaring inaccuracies in plot or the lingering scent of perfume proving infidelity – the others often indicated his view was somehow missing a point or was cruel.

Wracking his brain for answers never helped. Why would they enjoy a programme that promoted false concepts? Why shouldn’t someone want to know their partner was cheating? Being as he couldn’t fathom the reasons himself, he took to studying his classmates for answers. And an ability to fade into the background became a useful feature.

This surveillance also helped him with one of the other topics he knew he couldn’t tell anyone about. The Dreams.

Having long since made up his mind to disregard his own soulmate dream, Ed was nonetheless left with the problem of how to answer when someone asked about it, as they inevitably would. However, countless overheard conversations gave him a broad idea of the most common features of traditional Dreams. Eyes meeting across a crowded room seemed to be a popular one. The type of crowded room also provided many people with advice on their chosen career path. A few people also saw themselves at their wedding. Ed knew he could easily fabricate that one but then he had to factor in judging his prospective partner’s Dream. Since work based first meetings were the frequent basis of Dreams he rationalised that that should be what he focused on.

All depending on when he met a suitable person of course.

That didn’t happen until he’d left college and started his first day in the Gotham City Police Department.

When he first saw Miss Kringle he had spent so long imagining a Dream set in the exact same scenario that he could easily convince himself it was true love. Her warm welcoming smile and friendly offer of help finding his way about should he need it sealed the deal.

Still he didn’t know how to approach her. He could hardly walk straight up to her and announce they were soulmates. Especially when he woke from the plague of his insidious soulmate dream and remembered he had no true Dream to guide him. It didn’t help that her attitude towards him had gradually dimmed to barely restrained irritation. He had almost resolved to give up his pursuit of her but then he saw the bruise upon her arm.

Although she tried to excuse her boyfriend, Ed knew in that moment he’d made the right choice to try and liberate her. Who knew what her soulmate dream revealed about her proposed partner? Maybe it was as blood soaked as Edward’s own nightmare.

It was then that he stepped up his game to win her heart and took to listening in on more of her conversations. Which was how he heard the valuable titbit about her Dream involving grabbing her own arm in a bruising grip before being caught up in a whirlwind of passion.

The relief he felt when he finally had that key bit of information lent him all the courage he needed to make his move. Getting rid of Tom Dougherty was strangely therapeutic but he didn’t let himself dwell on that. Instead he kept his focus on Kristen and how he was rewriting both their Dreams into something better.

For a while everything became as it was supposed to be. Kristen grew fonder of him. And as she began smiling kindly at his quirks, others began accepting them too. For the first time in his life he found himself genuinely accepted into a circle of friends. It was even better than he’d imagined it could be.

Then he slipped up and it all fell apart again.

He’d thought Kristen loved him. He’d thought she appreciated being saved from her abusive partners. She should have at least appreciated being treated how she deserved to be treated. Instead she called him a freak. A psychopath.

“Everything I ever thought about you, I was right. I need to have my head examined.”

Perhaps it was the fact she was starting to unravel all his lies that panicked him – although it was certainly alarming enough thinking she’d report him for murder – but he knew he had to make her understand before she left. He had to make her see he wanted to keep her safe. That he loved her.

For one brief giddy moment he believed he’d finally managed it. Finally proved the Dream wrong as she stopped fighting him and he was able to smile at her and tell her again how he loved her. Then his world fell apart as she slid lifelessly down the door still staring at him wide eyed and breathless.

“Please. Please, no. No. No. No!”

In his head all he could hear was his parent’s voice telling him it would be better for everyone if he’d been aborted. And for the first time in his life, he agreed with them.


	3. Chapter 3

Edward was having fun. Genuine unrestrained fun. And for the first time in his life he had someone to share his excitement with. Never in his wildest imaginings could he have imagined life could be like this. That friendship could be this thrilling.

When he’d found Penguin bleeding out in the woods it had clearly been fate at work. To put such a renowned criminal in his path right when he was learning to accept that part of himself. What other explanation could there be?

Admittedly they hadn’t got off to the best of starts. Oswald was still grieving his lost mother and Edward hadn’t initially known how to heal that kind of wound. Yet somehow they’d come to recognise the similarities in their characters. A lifetime of pain and verbal abuse that they were sworn to put behind them as they forced the world into their own playground. And a certain pleasure in bloody vengeance.

They had been finishing a cheerful dinner of Chinese takeout when Oswald had brought up the subject of Mister Leonard. Edward couldn’t help but light up at the proposition. He’d heard so much about the terrible rage of the Penguin. His own kills had been satisfying in their way but he knew they lacked flair. That was something he knew he could learn from Oswald.

And learn he had. It seemed Oswald was as enthusiastic about sharing this with Ed as he was about exacting revenge upon Galavan’s man. He demonstrated the most painful injuries to inflict and the proper order for maximum agony. Each point was concluded with Ed stepping close and taking his own turn under Penguin’s watchful eye. It was a source of great pride that he only needing showing once to memorise the actions.

It wasn’t simply the motions required however. Oswald also emphasised the necessity of dragging things out, even going so far as leading Edward into an impromptu song to pass the time so a particular wound had time to sting and settle into a throbbing pain. Edward, for once in his life, couldn’t say how long had passed while they were thus engaged and truthfully forgot that there was any existence at all beyond the ritualistic carving.

That was until he found himself staring at the pale body now slack in the chair with the last blood dripping from his exposed major knuckles. For a long instant, Ed couldn’t place why he was staring so intensely at the bloody stumps. He could hear the last gasps of the man and knew he would be dead in seconds and a part of him insisted he should be watching that more closely. Instead he found himself turning his quizzical gaze back to Oswald.

As if he’d been waiting for such an invitation, Oswald then surged past him and sank his knife repeatedly into the quivering belly, ensuring their victim wouldn’t deny them of the kill by dying first. Ed found himself stepping backwards, breath hitching in wonder at the sight of the Penguin finally unleashing his fury. It was majestic in its untamed passion.

All too soon though Oswald clearly tired and dropped his knife with an exhausted shiver. Impressively though he remained standing over his prey, simply determined not to show weakness even in the face of one objectively weaker than the entire living population. Then he turned his own curious gaze back to Edward.

“This is exactly like my Dream.”

The unexpected sentence took a moment to filter through Edward’s foggy brain but when he did he froze. He’d spent so long pushing that particular part of himself down and he was in no state right now to bring it into the open and examine it. That was too much to deal with at once.

Almost unconsciously he had starting shaking his head in denial.

“This can hardly be the first time you’ve stabbed somebody in a rage,” he pointed out reasonably.

“No,” Oswald agreed albeit with a frown, “but there’s the fingers-”

“You’ve never seen fingers cut off?” The question came out a little harsher than Ed intended but thankfully Oswald didn’t call him on it.

“I have actually,” he admitted, seeming surprised at his own answer.

To be fair there probably weren’t many people, even in Gotham, who could claim to have seen many de-fingerings.

“Well, the probabilities are good this isn’t the only time you’ll have that combination,” Ed concluded before remembering a better argument. “Besides, my Dream happens at the GCPD. I’m kissing someone.”

“Oh?” Oswald staggered slightly, finally succumbing to the exertion. “That must be odd.”

“What?”

The confused reaction drew Oswald’s gaze to him and he blinked slowly before explaining.

“Kissing yourself. Even in a dream.”

Truthfully, Ed had never actually thought through what such a Dream must be like and now he did he had to concur. Even if he could hardly admit that.

“I… never thought of it like that.”

“Well, my condolences either way,” Oswald gestured a hand vaguely, now moving at a slow pace towards the bathroom. Edward however found himself caught out again.

“What?”

This time Oswald seemed rather exasperated at the question and stopped to answer irritably.

“Your soulmate,” he prompted. “In the GCPD. I assume it was Ms Kringle?”

“Yes.” Ed latched onto the assumption before suddenly comprehending what Oswald was getting at. “But its fine. You heard my conclusions on love.”

Oswald actually felt compelled to turn and stare disbelievingly at that.

“Love, yes,” he agreed, “but soulmates are different aren’t they? That’s what Dreams show. They are essentially us. Not _us_ us.” He sighed as he tried to find words to explain himself better. “They resonate. Amplifying our best qualities so we can achieve anything. It’s not the same,” he repeated again although this time turning and heading once again to get cleaned up.

Edward let him go while he mulled over the words. He’d heard similar expressions through the years although mostly people had referred to them as your ‘other half’ as if you were incomplete alone. That had always peeved him. Resonating however was a scientific fact he could understand. It made sense.

Quickly though he brushed the thought aside. His Dream wasn’t real. It was a warning to his future self. A false vision of all his worst qualities. Even if he could now appreciate the uselessness of worrying over spilt blood he still felt to his core the wrongness of wanting a man. That was wrong on a whole other level.

He hoped Oswald found his soulmate though. He deserved someone in his life to appreciate him as they should. And for now Ed merely counted himself lucky to have him as his friend.


	4. Chapter 4

Isabella was perfect. Actually literally perfect. Almost as if the gods had pulled her straight from the fervent imaginings of Edward’s mind. Even her timely arrival was perfect.

Edward wasn’t stupid. He could see the growing affection in Oswald’s eyes each passing day. He knew what was meant by the invitation to dinner with something important to tell him. While a part of him was undeniably entranced by the free warmth Oswald extended to him, he knew it couldn’t be anything more. How could it?

Oswald had a proper Dream to lead him eventually to his soulmate. Edward had spent so long fruitlessly trying to figure out what was right but he knew what was wrong. And someone like him partnering the Penguin was clearly wrong. Oswald deserved someone far better. If he allowed Oswald to confess his attraction to him then he’d be in the truly terrible position of having to let him down and that was something he could hardly bear.

Fortune obviously agreed with him because, just as he was contemplating how best to avoid the whole scenario, the vision of his lost opportunity appeared. Oswald would have to recognise this as fate. It was too fortuitous to be anything else. And Edward had another chance to build a future with the woman he tried to save before.

The only difficulty he was encountering was the sudden resurgence of his false Dream. Every night since Isabella had stepped into his life he found his subconscious dragging that old nightmare back up. When he awoke, breathing harshly from the sheer turbulence of emotions it unleashed, he found his thoughts always insistently thinking of Oswald. It took him several long minutes to remind his stubborn subconscious that it was just as it ever had been – mere wish fulfilment – and he couldn’t allow himself to believe it might be true. His mind had fabricated it then and was doing again so now.

Still, there were moments when he doubted his course. When he looked across at Isabella and saw not a warm loving person but a waxwork figurine. She caught him staring and misconstrued his look.

“And just what are you thinking about Mister Nygma?”

His mind hurried to present something more appropriate than a comparison to a mannequin.

“About soulmate Dreams,” he answered instinctively before dropping his gaze and hoping she would drop the subject. Unfortunately that wasn’t likely when presenting such a cliché to a determinedly romantic soul.

“Oh? You haven’t told me yours. Would you like me to tell you mine?”

He looked up with a bland smile. Years of subterfuge in this area served him well and he anticipated an easy discussion of well-worn familiar topics.

“Please do.”

“Well, it starts with kissing.” She smiled coyly and Ed wondered if it would be weird to try and enact it with her while she was telling him. “And then I’m taking off my top.”

Ed flushed as he wondered just how detailed this Dream was going to be. Most of the ones he’d overheard had been pretty vanilla. But then that was eavesdropping in a public domain. This was a private chat. With his girlfriend.

“Go on,” he encouraged as he realised she’d paused. She seemed relieved and he wondered if he’d zoned out.

“There’s a knife-”

“A knife?” he interrupted, suddenly fully focused. She nodded almost dreamily. He felt a sudden panic at the thought that she might be about to tell him his own Dream – or fake Dream… or whatever – and the thought frankly terrified him. She was a _project_. She couldn’t be his soulmate. He didn’t _have_ a soulmate. He _couldn’t_.

“And I,” -she blinked and smiled softly at him- “or _you_ I suppose, run it along my arms. Leisurely. Up and down.” She ran her own hands almost hypnotically from wrist to elbow and back again repetitively. “Not breaking the skin. _Yet_.”

Ed found himself relieved and alarmed all at once. Relieved that this wasn’t his version but alarmed at the fact of meeting another individual with such a depraved Dream. If hers was real then maybe his was too.

“Then,” her voice snapped him back to awareness. “You slide the blade in so sweetly.”

Her clear longing was what motivated him to move. One thing he knew he’d never do was deliberately hurt his soulmate. If that was what she wanted from him then he had to set her right now. Standing swiftly, he gripped the back of his chair in a habitually defensive gesture.

“No. I’m sorry but you have that wrong. Soulmates don’t hurt each other. You must be misremembering or-”

Before he knew what was happening she was up and gripping the front of his jacket.

“I want you to,” she insisted desperately. “I knew, as soon as I read about you, I knew you were the one.”

He gasped as the understanding washed over him that she had orchestrated this. From their meeting to her inviting behaviour. None of it was preordained. All of it was manipulation.

“You have the wrong person.”

“No I don’t.” She searched his eyes rapidly. “You want it too. I know you do. You want to hurt me. Please.”

And suddenly she had caught his head and pulled him into an aggressive kiss. Her tongue was trying to encourage him to welcome her by licking at his lips but all he could feel was her saliva lathering him. It made him want to scrub himself clean and as soon as she released her hold he frantically wiped his lips with his sleeve.

Glancing up he saw to his horror that she hadn’t given up but was in fact proceeding with her enactment. It was only later he’d realise he hadn’t even noticed her uncovered breasts since his focus was entirely on her hand reaching for the knife on the table behind her. She handed it to him with a peculiar sweetness that contrasted sharply with everything else around them.

For a second he merely stared at it. Then his view was interrupted by her extended arms held out towards him.

“Do it.”

The command, although softly spoken, frightened him almost more than anything else. Looking up he stared into her eyes, searching for some aspect of the person he’d thought she was. He saw only darkness and madness waiting for him there. With an almost resigned sigh he turned his gaze once again upon the knife. There really was only one thing to do now.

With a practised motion learnt from his truest friend, he darted his hand forward and slashed her throat, giving her the mercy of a quick death. She looked surprised rather than pained as she continued to stand in front of him almost without noticing her imminent demise.

“I’m sorry Isabella,” he told her. “We simply aren’t meant to be.”


	5. Chapter 5

Edward could honestly not remember the journey from Isabella’s apartment to the mansion. All he knew was that now he was here, and Oswald was looking at him with both surprise and concern, and every conceivable emotion seemed to swamp him at once. He started hyperventilating which only made Oswald’s anxiety worse.

“Ed? Ed, what’s wrong?”

He felt hands holding almost delicately at his arms and allowed himself to fold onto the shorter man’s shoulder. There was a startled silence before arms wound tightly around him and Ed finally felt himself calming, albeit hiccupping from the insufficient oxygen.

“It’s alright Ed. Whatever it is, I’m here for you.”

As the truth of the words sunk into his mind his body relaxed under the soothing caress of a hand across his shoulder blades. Oswald was right. He was the only one-

The reality of the situation struck Ed almost viscerally and he pulled back to look at Oswald, really look at him in a way he’d deliberately avoided before. Never allowing himself to admire the pale freckles. Never letting himself stare into those hypnotising eyes. Never truly permitting himself to understand how honestly Oswald cared for him.

He felt suddenly the weight of his messed up mentality and wondered if it wouldn’t be better to just leave now before he hurt his friend further. But Oswald was watching him with such clear worry that he couldn’t bring himself to walk away.

“I made a very grave mistake Oswald. And I don’t know if I can ever put it right.”

The admission was met with a nod as Oswald buried his emotions to focus entirely on the problem at hand. Before saying anything he walked over and sat on the sofa, gesturing for Ed to join him.

“Tell me what happened,” he said then, “and we’ll see if something can’t be done.”

Edward slowly nodded and gathered his thoughts while he situated himself at a carefully calculated distance along from him.

“I went to see Isabella this afternoon,” he began carefully before rethinking and starting again. “Did I tell you about Ms Kringle?”

“What?” Oswald frowned at the unexpected conversation change. “Yes. I mean, I know how you killed her.”

“I wanted to save her. From all the abusive men in her life. Her Dream wasn’t… soft, and I thought by convincing her I was the one I could save us both.”

“Wait… she _wasn’t_ your soulmate?”

“No. I never let myself believe I had one until today.”

“With Isabella.” The taut tone registered with Ed but he didn’t dwell on it, too caught up with the need to explain.

“She wanted to discuss our Dreams,” he continued instead. “And I thought it would be the usual fare of tender glances and slow kisses, that sort of thing. So imagine my shock when she spoke of a knife. I never told anyone, except well… they don’t count… but my Dream involves a knife. And the idea that she might _actually_ share my dream…” he swallowed hard as he tried to articulate that horrified feeling.

“I understand.” Oswald’s gaze remained fixed on the empty fireplace as he spoke. “The feeling when you find – or believe you’ve found – your soulmate is… euphoric.”

“No.” Ed shook his head. “I was terrified.” As Oswald darted his gaze to him, he pressed on insistently. “She wasn’t meant to be my soulmate. She was meant to be my redemption. For Ms Kringle.”

“But she _is_ in fact your soulmate?”

Something about Oswald’s genuine confusion tickled Ed and he laughed softly.

“No,” he said again, “because when she carried on she spoke of her soulmate hurting her. Cutting her. I could never do that to my soulmate.”

Oswald rubbed at his head.

“So she’s _not_ your soulmate. I suppose you told her and she broke up with you. Was that the mistake you meant?”

“It’s not. I told her and she wouldn’t take no for an answer. So I killed her.”

For an indeterminate moment Oswald stared at him almost uncomprehendingly. Then he ran a disbelieving hand through his hair and turned away again.

“I see your problem.” He huffed out a long breath. “Well, we can’t bring her back from the dead, you’ve got that right enough, but we can get you an alibi and arrange signs of a break in. So much for not hurting your soulmate.” He managed a jerky laugh but it wasn’t terribly convincing.

Ed reached out and caught the hand that was fluttering aimlessly.

“I told you, she wasn’t my soulmate. I would never hurt my one true love. Not intentionally.”

The hold he had on his hand had distracted Oswald momentarily but now he frowned again.

“But you said you only believed you had a soulmate today.”

It wasn’t exactly a question but Ed knew Oswald needed an answer anyway.

“My Dream… got me in a lot of trouble as a child. Firstly because of its rather dark nature but also because…” he inhaled cautiously, “because I always knew my soulmate was a man.” He kept his own gaze fixed on their hands even as Oswald’s gaze darted up. “My father especially didn’t like that so I did my best to deny its very existence. To bury that part of me where it couldn’t be used to hurt me anymore. But now… now I’m finding that it hurts to ignore it. And I fear it’s led me to hurt my soulmate too. Which is something I never ever wanted to do.”

With an act of daring he hadn’t planned but couldn’t stop he raised Oswald’s hand to his lips and kissed it gently, only bringing his eyes up when he heard the gasp it elicited.

“ _You_ are my soulmate Oswald. And I’m so sorry I couldn’t admit it before. _That’s_ the mistake I meant. And I… don’t know if it’s too late-”

He was interrupted by Oswald darting forward and pressing a hasty kiss to his lips. It lasted less than a second but Oswald blushed profusely as he sat back again.

“It’s not too late Ed,” he murmured, suddenly shy. “I was so disappointed that time in your flat. With Mister Leonard? When I thought you were my soulmate only to find you seemingly weren’t. So I had to resign myself to waiting for my perfect match.” He glanced up through his lashes, “and I’d have waited forever because there was no way anyone else could possibly be better than you.”

The praise felt too much and all Ed could do in response was pull Oswald’s hand up and kiss it again.

“I swear I will make it up to you.”

A brilliant smile lit up his little bird’s face.

“You already have. You’re here with me aren’t you?”

There were so many thing’s Ed still felt he needed to say, to explain, as well as questions he was almost scared of broaching yet, but Oswald seemed content with that for now. He stood up decisively.

“Now. If my right-hand man would care to assist me? It seems we have a murder to cover up.”

Edward nodded gradually before standing up with a smile to follow.

Undoubtedly there were a lot of nebulous details to work out as they established their new relationship but they would face them as they had grown accustomed to. As it seems they had always been destined to. Together.


End file.
